


if you ever make it to ten

by sherlockelly



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Coming Out, Coming of Age, Falling In Love, Gay Bar, Growing Up, M/M, Moving On, Tequila, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-29
Updated: 2012-08-29
Packaged: 2017-11-13 03:08:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockelly/pseuds/sherlockelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Brent is twenty-four, he sometimes sleeps with women.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if you ever make it to ten

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own these people or these things.

When Brent is five years old, he has a crush on a boy on his hockey team. He doesn't know it's a crush at the time, not until much later down the line when there are words that go feelings, but that's exactly what it is. They sit together at lunch and they go over to each others' houses and have sleepovers with funny movies and when they sneakily watch scary movies on late night cable together, they hold hands when the music changes and cover their heads with blankets. They are friends until the summer before third grade when the boy moves away and Brent cries for a week and wonders if things will ever get better again.

* * *

When Brent is twelve years old, his mother takes him and his little brother to the beach for a week while his father stays back to deal with contractors and construction workers as they finish the addition on the house. He will have his own room finally, and while he will miss Keith's presence, Brent is excited for some privacy.

The water is cold but the sand and air are hot, even in the evening, and he is old enough now that his mom lets him go to the beach by himself after dinner. Brent sits on the sand, legs stretched out in front of him and watches the older teenage boys body-surf in the dying sunlight until he is sure their fingers and toes are numb. He notices how the water runs off their chests and down their legs when they emerge covered in sand and salt. The tallest of the boys runs out of the surf laughing and gasping for air, with his bathing suit hanging wet and heavy on his hips. Brent comes in his board shorts spontaneously, sticky and startling, without even meaning to, and its the single scariest moment of his life to this point. 

This is how Brent realizes he is gay. It hits him like a bolt of lightning crackling down his spine and rattling in his head as he runs all the way back to the condo, every slapping step of his bare feet on the pavement sounding like a taunt. But at least now he knows for sure, he tells himself.

* * *

When Brent is fifteen years old, he has his first boyfriend, an older boy whom he meets at a tournament but who lives nearby. For two months, everything is perfect and Brent is sure that he is in love. Matt comes over to his house whenever he is able, sometimes even when Brent's parents are away, and they lock the bedroom door and turn on loud music and ignore Keith when he knocks. 

Brent thinks he will remember forever exactly what they are doing when Matt ends things. Brent is sprawled out on his back on his bed, shirt rumpled and fly open, Matt beside him in a similar state. 

"We gotta stop this, Brent. I'm not gay." Matt sits up and looks down at him. "I'm too old to be messing around." 

"You're only six months older than me!" He sounds whiny and it makes him want to cry.

"Yeah, but I'm not gay. You are." 

And just like that, it's over, Matt is gone from his life and Brent is back to being alone.

* * *

When Brent is nineteen, he meets Duncan Keith, who reminds him of his best friends from high school, the ones that knew almost all of his secrets. They get along so well that it only takes a few months before Duncs knows nearly all of his secrets, too. 

Sometimes when Brent is feeling extra vulnerable, he wonders if he could ever be brave enough to tell Duncs the truth, but he really doesn't think so.

* * *

When Brent is twenty, he meets Patrick Sharp, who comes over to the Blackhawks in a trade from Philadelphia and it feels like an early Christmas present when he walks into the dressing room and Brent has to force himself not to stare. 

Apart from being gorgeous, Sharpy seems different from the start; he is touchy with everyone, no matter who they are, and he doesn't use words like 'faggot' or 'cocksucker', even when the rest of the team does. Even Duncs. 

Brent isn't naive enough to think Sharpy is gay, too, but sometimes he pretends. Maybe they would be the last ones left after a practice and Brent would ask him if he's doing something later, maybe meeting his girlfriend for a late lunch. Maybe Sharpy would wink instead of answering, or tell Brent that he didn't really like girls all that much. It's all just pretend, Brent knows, but sometimes it does seem possible.

Brent finds himself hanging around Sharpy a lot, telling Duncs that he's busy when he's really not, he's only following Sharpy like a puppy dog. They go out together on the road, sometimes alone, and at home, Brent offers to show Sharpy places in Chicago he hasn't seen yet.

When Sharpy finally, casually mentions his girlfriend, says she is coming out for a visit and asks where he should take her for dinner, does Brent have any ideas for good date spots, Brent hates the wave of disappointment that washes over him. 

They stay friends, and eventually Brent gets over it, but he promises himself that he won't assume anymore.

* * *

When Brent is twenty-two, his brother comes to visit him in Chicago and right away asks him about the girls in the city; what they're like and where Brent meets them. When Brent opens his mouth without answering for just a second too long, Keith speaks for him. 

“I knew it, Brent.” 

“Knew what?”

“You're gay.” 

He denies it, frantically, but Keith will have none of it. 

“Mom and Dad and I already talked about it, anyhow.” 

“You _what_?!” 

“We talked about how you might be gay, since you never seem to have any girlfriends.” 

“I'm just too busy is all! I'm not gay, Keith! And I can't even believe that you and Mom and Dad would talk about--” He stops himself abruptly when feels that he's crying and it all seems so stupid all of a sudden to still be hiding. “I'm sorry.”

“Why? Why are are sorry?” Keith waves his hands around abstractly as he speaks. “Is it true?” 

“Yeah.”

“Well don't apologize then! I fucking love you, okay? And so do Mom and Dad!” 

“D'you promise?” 

“Jesus, fuck, Brent! Of course I do!” 

Later, Keith sits next to him when he calls his parents and tells them. They promise him the same thing and for the first time in a long time, Brent doesn't feel quite so scared.

* * *

When Brent is twenty-four, he sometimes sleeps with women. Only sometimes, and only because he feels like he has to. He hates it really, and it's stupid how transparent the little looks from Steeger and Duncs, the 'are you really sure you're going to do this' looks that he feels burning into his skin as he stumbles with whichever girl out of the bar and back to the hotel, make him feel. 

There is no way that any of them could possibly know because he's never breathed a word of it to anyone in his life outside his immediate family, but he feels like it's tattooed on his forehead sometimes. 

He tries to space it out, though. One girl every month, sometimes every two if he thinks he can get away with it, but he's feeling overdue in a way that makes his skin crawl a bit, so when Kaner comes into his room and asks him if he wants to go out with a group of them that night, he agrees. 

There's nothing too appealing about the nightlife in Dallas, but they can remain mostly anonymous there and Kaner says he's had this place picked out for a while, though the look Jonny gives him is one that Brent can't read. Sharpy, Duncs and he share a cab out to the address Kaner gives them and they meet Kaner and Jonny and Bur out front of a brick building with music so loud they can hear it buzzing through the walls. 

Kaner is practically bouncing on his heels as the six of them make it to the door and show their licenses. The second they're inside, Brent knows this is a set-up. 

It's very obviously a gay bar, and a crowded one at that. Brent's throat closes up as he takes one look around the place and he's already eying the door when he feels Duncs hand close around his wrist. He's still too in shock to stop himself from being led to a back corner and an open table with a “Reserved” placard on it that tells Brent more than what he needs to know about just how much planning went into this on Kaner's part. 

“We'll go get drinks,” Kaner nudges Jonny, who seems to be on sensory overload at the moment. 

“Are we just not gonna mention this?” He hears himself shouting over the music at Duncs. 

“Mention what?” Bur and Duncs share a look before turning back to him. 

“We're in a gay bar.” This damned well may be the Twilight Zone for all he knows by now, and Brent feels like he's fourteen years old again, trying overly hard to keep his eyes to himself in the showers, tunnel visioning in on his companions and ignoring the milling crowds of men around them. 

“Yeah, we are.” Sharpy feigns surprise, looks around the room and appearing scandalized.

“Shut the fuck up, Sharpy. Why are we in a gay bar?” 

“Kaner said it would be a good idea,” Duncs shrugs off the question with indifference and Brent would punch him in the face if he weren't sure that would draw more attention to himself than he's willing to have. 

As if on cue, Kaner and Jonny return with a tray of shots and two pitchers and the only way Brent can think to take some of the anxiety off this moment is to pound the two shots in front of him and wash it down with his beer. 

“One of those was mine, you know,” Duncs leans in close to speak in Brent's ear and he feels himself leaning away. 

By the third round of drinks, Brent isn't having the worst time anymore, and it's almost fun watching Kaner and Jonny dance just close enough to appear possessive, though the space gets smaller and smaller as Kaner keeps drinking. Sharpy has been chatting with some guy in a suit at the bar for about five minutes and Bur is slowly cutting in on Jonny on the dance floor, which has Kaner turning all sorts of red and pissy. 

Brent feels a little braver now, like he could almost pull off nonchalant if he concentrated on it hard enough. Duncs laughs at something Bur does to Kaner before pulling his phone out of his pocket and texting someone. 

“You having fun?” Brent almost doesn't realize Duncs is speaking to him without the gentle elbow to his side. 

“Yeah, s'okay.” He finishes off what's left of the pitcher into his glass and takes a drink. 

“You can go explore if you want. I'll hold the table for us.” 

Brent thinks he can hear himself swallow, but he does finally allow himself to look around the place. It's crowded for a weeknight, and there are definitely people here that Brent will admit he'd be interested in if the situation was different. He watches Duncs pick a hangnail and reach for his phone again, smiling at something he reads on the screen. 

“It's not really my scene,” he hopes he sounds convincing enough. 

“S'yer call man.” 

Sharpy comes back with a fresh pitcher and three more shots of tequila that Brent already knows he'll feel in the morning, but he accepts one anyway when offered, ignoring the look from a particularly attractive man at the bar as he licks the salt off his thumb. 

“You'd think those three were perfectly at home here,” Sharpy throws a nod over his shoulder towards the dance floor and Duncs humphs an agreement. So much for nonchalance, Brent muses at himself. 

By the time the pitcher is gone, Brent is feeling on the paranoid side of drunk and for his own intoxication, Sharpy notices. 

“You ready to go?” It's telling that it's addressed only to him when Kaner and Jonny are now over doing damage to the bar at Bur's encouraging, and Duncs has barely looked up from his phone and his beer long enough to leave for the restroom, but Brent nods anyhow and with a gesture over to Bur, he's got the six of them assembled back at the table in under a minute. 

“Think we're ready to hit the road,” Sharpy drinks down the last of his beer and grabs for his jacket, prompting Brent to do the same. Duncs mentions the cabs are already on their way and the only one who really seems upset at this point is Kaner. 

“But everyone was havin' such a good time, right?” He's swaying on his feet and Bur has to hold him up. 

“You had a _really_ good time, didn't you?” And it is kind of apparent that Kaner is somehow way more intoxicated than the rest of them, despite the fact that Brent's nose is a little bit numb and as nervous as he is right now, the smile he's got plastered to his face is starting to feel permanent. 

It stays until they're piling into the cab and Brent takes the front seat, wary of the way Kaner has been looking a little green. It's a quiet ride back to the hotel for the most part, until he hears Kaner trying his level best to whisper. 

“Did he meet anyone?” Kaner slurs his words and a quick glance into his mirror and backwards reveals that he's practically hanging off Jonny's shoulder. 

“I didn't ask him yet, but I don't think so. Don't think he left the table once. What about you?” There's a smirk in Jonny's voice that makes Brent glad he can't see the kid's face right now. He bites his cheek.

“I think I met everyone. They bought me a lot of drinks, and not even 'cause I'm a hockey player either! They didn't know who I was. S'cause I'm so hot!” 

“Yeah, you didn't need to accept _all_ of them.” 

He wakes up the next morning feeling the tequila like he knew he would, a pounding in the back of his skull that makes everything after that shot feel fuzzy, like he might have dreamt the ride home and the subsequently awkward conversation with Kaner back at the hotel that might have involved the kid shedding a tear or two as he espoused his good intentions. Fortunately, Brent is sure that Kaner doesn't remember it at all, and no one else was around to hear that would remind him. 

Duncs is already up when Brent rolls over, sitting on top of his made bed, reading a book. 

“Hey. I got you some aspirin, on the nightstand. My head was killing me when I got up.” Duncs points to the pills and the water. 

“When did you get up?” 

“I was up at six. You know I sleep like shit after drinking. S'nine now,” he answers the question that Brent didn't ask. 

Even the water makes him feel better, but Brent swallows down the pills and lays back down, waiting for them to take effect. 

“M'sorry he ambushed you like that. Or, well, I'm sorry that _we_ did,” Duncs puts his bookmark in place and suddenly this seems like a Talk. 

“S'not a big deal.” He hopes he sounds casual. 

“Just, you know how Kaner is. He gets an idea in his head and then that's it, you know. It's over until someone relents.” 

“Yeah.” 

Duncs flips through the pages like a flipbook a few times before sighing and picking at his nail. 

“You know, you can talk to me about stuff, if you ever wanted to.”

“I talk to you about stuff all the time.” 

“I know, I just mean about, well. It was Kaner's idea, but we all kind of thought that maybe. It just wouldn't be a big deal, you know?”

“No, I don't know.” He sounds defensive, he can hear it, but only because he's lying. He hopes Duncs can't tell as much. 

“I'm gonna ask you something, and if it pisses you off, then I'm sorry, but I just, I need to ask, okay?” 

Deny it, deny it, deny it, Brent chants in his head. You can't force someone out if they don't want to be and he certainly doesn't want to be. He's not ready, it's not _safe_ for him right now in his career. His contract is coming up for renewal soon and this could fuck with everything, they could trade him, they could refuse to resign him. 

“Go ahead an' ask if you have to.” 

“Are you gay, Seabs?” 

“Yes.” And no one is more surprised to hear it than him. He can't look over at Duncs, he just can't right now. 

He hears a deep breath from the other bed that sounds almost like it came through a smile. “Thank you for telling me. I won't say a word to the other guys, okay? Not if you don't want me to. It's not my place.” 

“They already know, don't they?” 

“Well, I'd be lying if I said that they didn't suspect. Kaner thought if we all went out with you to a bar that you'd see you could trust us enough to tell us.” 

“Sounds about right.” 

“Yeah, I mean, it wasn't my first choice, but I didn't really know how else to,” he pauses, “how else to ask, I guess.” 

Brent takes stock of himself for a moment. His head still hurts and his mouth tastes like a rat, but he feels okay, good even. _Liberated_ , he rolls his eyes at the word. He's tired again though, feels like he could actually sleep restfully for once. It's a nice feeling, and Duncs must read his mind about it because he opens his book back up and settles in like he's willing to be patient.

“Go ahead and go back to sleep. We can go get lunch whenever you're ready.” 

“Thanks.”

“And Seabs?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Don't sleep with those girls anymore, okay? It makes you miserable.”

Brent smiles. “Promise.”

* * *

When Brent is twenty-six, he meets Sean. Ironically, he meets him in one of the bars in Chicago that he'd first been to with Sharpy all those years ago, though it had since changed ownership and demographics, obviously. Brent goes by himself even though there's no shortage of offers to tag along. He would ordinarily accept, but he's still not completely comfortable flirting in front of teammates yet. He's only just been comfortable enough to come out to the vast majority of them, (though, as Duncs had promised, the vast majority of them told them that they'd already either known or suspected and life had carried on). And coming out to his team is different than coming out to the entire city of Chicago, and some of them have a hard time keeping a low profile in public. 

Sean is shorter than Brent, with sandy blond hair that he's buzzed to just long enough that it still looks like it would be soft to touch. Brent's first thought is that the guy kind of looks like Steeger with green eyes and freckles, but he changes his mind once he really gets to look at him. He suddenly looks a lot more like someone Brent can't even begin to describe and that's how he knows he's doomed. 

Sean doesn't know a thing about hockey and in his own words, couldn't tell a puck from a baseball, but he knows everything there is to know about spices and baking and broiling and basting and after five minutes of listening to Sean talk about his classes at Le Cordon Bleu, they're laughing at how much Brent's stomach is growling. 

Sean takes Brent out to (late) dinner at a place he swears has the very best Italian food this side of Italy itself and they're there until the place kicks them out at midnight. 

On the way back to the bar, to their cars, Brent is struck by how good this feels, being out with someone like this, no pressure to lie or hide. He holds Sean's hand when they're a block away and regrets instantly not doing it sooner when the man's smaller fingers curl up in his and it's like they've known each other forever. Like he's five years old again and holding hands under a blanket while the television flickers light through the bare threads. 

They exchange numbers when they reach Brent's car and before he can open his door and get in, Brent feels himself being pulled by the arm and twisted around. He's pressed into a kiss that leaves him absolutely breathless and wrecked. It's the first time in his life he's felt scared in a good way.

* * *

When Brent is thirty-eight, he retires from the National Hockey League to be a full-time husband and father to his loving family. 

He keeps his personal life private for the most part, though he doesn't skirt the subject. Usually he just smiles and brushes off questions about Sean and the restaurant they own in downtown, though reporters have realized that getting him to _stop_ talking about his two young boys is a next to impossible task altogether. 

“I'm happy,” he stands at the podium in front of the mic and the cameras, Blackhawks logo affixed to just about everything in sight, his jersey hanging behind him. Maybe he's even crying a little bit, too, he can't quite tell. “I couldn't have asked for a better life.”


End file.
